


Ties That Bind

by Sinning_Satan (Inactive_Account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Depression, Dubious Consent, M/M, One-Shot, Sibling Incest, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inactive_Account/pseuds/Sinning_Satan
Summary: Keith loved Shiro.He hated himself for that same love.The five Paladins were heroes known throughout the universe . . . Shiro, Hunk, Matt, Allura, and Coran . . . he owed them absolute respect and gratitude, but it was difficult to reconcile the war hero with the man that came into his room at night. He longed for his brother, but instead he was given a lover.Forced to live as an omega in an alpha's shadow, Keith was alone, but Lance understood his feelings of inadequacy. The tenuous rivalry would given way into friendship and romance, but a choice would have to be made:Keith would need to choose between his brother and his friend.





	Ties That Bind

_‘Keith, hold on!’_

_He was weak. Dizzy. The room span, as he drifted into something akin to sleep. There were voices washing over him, sometimes drawing him back into reality, but his mind would often add to them . . . creating conversations and scenarios . . . unable to differentiate between the reality and the imagination. It was peaceful. The pain in his wrists provided a strange sensation, not quite unbearable and not quite enjoyable. It broke his peace._

_Keith was relaxed in his body, but the pain grounded him. It brought him back to reality. He knew that Shiro played on that, as the sound of splashes and sloshing water echoed about his mind, and the pain grew stronger from that. Hands were upon him. Keith opened his eyes, hating the touches and sensations, too contaminated and burned, too dirty and overwhelming, but this time no concern was given over the skin-on-skin. The vision before him was of a man in black – one, two, it was hard to focus . . . struggling to lift him._

_‘Why? Why would you do this?’_

_Keith wanted to laugh. Keith wanted to cry. He closed his eyes when the lights became too bright. He turned his head when the sounds hurt. They were white specks upon his eyelids. His body tingled like a thousand needles over flesh . . . his head lolled back, it hurt . . . there was a coldness about his flesh. Cold. Flat. He strove to open his eyes. Why were his hands clasped high above his head? Why was the door opening? Who was that? Keith wanted to laugh all the more. They couldn’t save him. They wouldn’t save him._

_A woman and a man chatted, until someone else was before him. A towel draped over his private parts, while Shiro talked almost to himself in one corner . . . a phone call . . . red hair in his vision, someone checking a pulse, while a woman in blue reassured him. No. No, it wasn’t meant to end like this. They weren’t meant to bring him back. He blacked out. The world came back into view . . . a few seconds passed at most, no more . . ._

_Sirens. An enclosed space. A mask._

_He looked to see a man in uniform. A stranger. They could help him. They would know, wouldn’t they? They would help him . . . if he couldn’t escape the fear, maybe they could remove the cause . . . maybe he would never be afraid again. He was cold. He slept. He awoke to a room. It was large, many people . . . so cold . . . uniforms, equipment, cold._

_‘Don’t fight them, Keith. They’re here to help.’_

_He slept. He slept and coldness came._

* * *

Shiro smiled from the doorway.

He looked over to Keith with a handsome gaze; his dark eyes were half-lidded, while his square jaw lacked any kind of tension, and his white-streaked hair was slicked back with grease and sweat from several days spent continuously by a hospital bed. They told Keith that not once – except to use the bathroom – did he leave the bedside, as if his constant attention was something to be envied, and each time . . . he wanted to scream at them.

Keith sat upon his bed, as he looked around his bedroom. He wanted to avoid Shiro’s gaze, but the room was too small, and his heart raced at the idea that – after all this – he would never be able to avoid Shiro’s gaze ever again. It hurt before. It hurt to always be looked at and looked over, but no one picked up on the signs . . . no one saw how his eyes watered, no one saw the little looks he sent them as he silently pleaded, no one noticed how vague his answers were about his home life . . . maybe they just didn’t care. Keith swallowed hard.

He hunched over and clasped his hands between his legs. There was a framed picture on the far wall, which featured all the Paladins during their prime . . . Shiro, Matt, Hunk, Allura, and Coran . . . he remembered looking up at the photograph as a kid, which was a part of his collage of diagrams and articles and post-it notes, and he longed to be like them. Now all he wanted was to get away from them. He looked to Shiro and glared.

“You took my door,” whispered Keith.

Shiro winced and leaned against the doorframe. The hinges stood as markers as where once his privacy existed, and the older man showed no real guilt on his expression. Keith turned and swallowed back his rage; his heart raced, while a cold sweat broke over his body, and his head grew light-headed once more, and – through it all – there was a white-hot rage that forced his hands into fists and drew fingernails into flesh. He stood up and took a slow and staggered breath, while he stepped towards his brother. Keith spat in a cold voice:

“You took my _blade_.”

“You’re under suicide watch,” said Shiro. “You were in the hospital for three days; it took absolutely everything I had to convince them to let you come home, but being an out-patient brings with it a certain level of responsibilities. You need to earn back the trust you broke. In the meantime, I need to do everything I can to be sure you’re safe. I can’t lose you, Keith.”

“What about my blade? That was our father’s!”

“I wouldn’t destroy or abandon anything of Thace’s, I promise you. I know how much that blade means to you. It’s the only link you have to a man that sacrificed his life to save me, but – more than that – it’s the only link to a man that sacrificed his life with us to save the universe from a greater threat. Thace was a hero. I won’t take that from you. It’s why I’ve put the blade in a display case downstairs, just until you’re ready to take it back.”

Keith sagged his shoulders in relief. He knew where the blade would be displayed; on the mantelpiece there was a collection of memorabilia from Shiro’s days as a Paladin, where models of the Lions sat beside various photographs, and he could picture it now in a glass box on a small stand, as it took centre place. It was a nice concession of Shiro. He knew that his brother downplayed their Galra heritage to make things a little easier on them, so to have that heritage on blatant display brought a smile to Keith’s lips.

The wind outside howled against his window, while Shiro tapped his fingers upon the doorframe, and Keith wondered how long it would be until he was allowed access to his cell phone. He wanted to contact Katie and Lance, maybe just be around people his age, but everyone decided for him that it was ‘too much’ and that he needed ‘rest’, and so he was cut off from the only people that could help him. He laughed sadly, as Shiro asked:

“Why did you use the blade to hurt yourself?”

“It seemed poetic, I guess,” said Keith.

“You wanted to die with some connection to your heritage?”

“Maybe I just wanted to spill some Galra blood.” Keith smiled and shrugged. “We share the same blood, you know. I always loved that expression growing up . . . it was like something linked us together, at some deeper and more intrinsic level . . . the older I get, though, the more I realise we couldn’t be more different. It’s like the closer we become, the more alone I feel. Does it ever get easier? Do I ever get to find out where you start and I end?”

“I know I made a mistake leaving you, Keith, but the universe needed me.” Shiro winced. “If I had known that I wouldn’t come back from my mission, or that Matt and I would end up Galra slaves, or that we would return to you only to leave again . . . I might have never left in the first place, but I did leave and we did escape and we did become Paladins.”

“That’s not what bothers me,” said Keith. “You – You left that mission as my brother, leaving me under the care of Iverson at the Garrison, but you came back a man I didn’t even recognise. I was expelled. You don’t even seem to care and –”

“Of course, I care. I care, Keith.”

“I was expelled because I couldn’t cope. I couldn’t cope because my brother – _my rock_ – was out of my life and I didn’t know what to do to make it better! I obsessed. I tried to do everything I could to find you, and Iverson still acted as my guardian in your absence, only you returned and left me again . . . I turned thirteen, then fourteen, then –”

“At least I’ll be here for your nineteenth,” teased Shiro.

Keith winced. Shiro sighed and stepped into his room, crossing over the non-existent border, before slipper-covered feet silently walked toward him, and – with a firm grip, but gentle touch – he grasped Keith’s shoulder with his organic hand. The warmth of his skin provided a small comfort, as did the fact he purposely avoided touching bare skin. It was almost like his brother was back. Keith missed the man that helped him through his autism, just as he missed the man who used to be his friend, and instead he now looked into the eyes of a stranger.

“Keith, why don’t you take your medicine?”

The cybernetic hand opened before him. Keith looked down to see a familiar bottle of medicine with a childproof cap, with a label around the sides that listed his name and address, and – with a sigh – he looked up and forced a smile. It was hard to reconcile friend with stranger, hard to see the line between the man he loved and the man he hated, but he half-suspected the medicines would only blur that line further. He wanted a clear mind.

“You already gave me my meds,” said Keith. “I don’t appreciate them being hidden away, either, locked in a cabinet as if I’d try to top myself on mood stabilisers. I’m not depressed. I’m just . . . looking for an out. If you want me drugged, I’m drugged enough.”

“Those aren’t the medicines I mean, Keith.”

“Huh? Then what are you -?”

Shiro shook the bottle. It rattled in a really obnoxious way, but – as Keith took it from his hand – he read the label and paled at the sight. The words were crystal clear, as if written especially for him, and he was so lost in his fear that he barely felt the mattress dip, even as Shiro sat beside him with an arm around his shoulders. He wanted to run, but he knew Shiro would catch him. It was easy to jump to the worst-case scenario, but he knew this wasn’t about contraception or skipping a heat, else the doctors wouldn’t prescribe it. Keith spat:

“You’re joking, right? I’m not hormonal, Shiro!”

“I never said you were,” said Shiro. “Look, the doctors agreed with me that a heat right now would be the worst thing for you. They place a huge stress on the body, _do_ mess with your hormones, and it’s a lot to process when you’re already suicidal. There’s a lot to deal with right now. Why add to that with a heat? Just take one, for me. Please.”

“You should be glad you aren’t someone’s alpha.” Keith smiled and shrugged. “You really can’t count at all, can you? I have my heats every six months. I’m not due until my nineteenth birthday, but that’s not for – what – five months from now, Shiro?”

“You went into a heat last month? I don’t remember that.”

“Probably because you went into a rut.”

Shiro paled. The scar upon his nose and cheeks looked further raised, as he winced almost imperceptibly, and Keith – determined to add fuel to the fire – nodded behind them the sheets and the wall that the bed was pressed against. There were scratch marks down the plaster, while the sheets were ripped and torn in places. A few specks of blood still stained centre of the sheets, while some nights Keith was sure he could smell slick and sweat even all those weeks later. Shiro swallowed hard and looked to Keith with trembling lips. He whispered:

“You’re not . . .?”

The question lingered in the air. Keith closed his eyes, hoping to fight away tears, as he thought back to that night still strong in his memory . . . he remembered the excessive sweat and warmth that coursed through him, as he writhed and arched his back . . . he remembered the arousal that caused a deep ache in his hard member, as well as pinpricks of pain all over his skin . . . he remembered the frustration and desperation and sheer _need_.

He lowered a hand to his stomach, where he rubbed in light circles . . . _‘do you want this?’, ‘I – I need – you’re so – so – so –’, ‘I’ve always loved you’_ . . . Shiro was barely coherent, too far gone in his rut that unfortunately synchronised with his heat, and – while both retained some self-control – they gave into the physical need . . . the want. Keith panicked. There was a flood of warmth inside him, while the knot caught at the base and stretched him to the point of pain, but Shiro reassured him of the condom. They were safe. Keith let out a long sigh.

“No,” said Keith. “That’s not why I tried to hurt myself.”

“We probably ought to get you onto contraception.”

“Now? After I tried to kill myself?” Keith laughed and shook his head. “If they didn’t suspect anything before, they’ll definitely suspect something if – after immediately me trying to kill myself – you try to get them to give me the pill. There couldn’t be any connection there, could there? It’s not like a person would kill themselves over that.”

Shiro pulled away. The bed was within a small alcove, much like those Keith saw within the Altean castle, and sometimes – when the darkness overcame him – he wondered whether Shiro intentionally redesigned Keith’s room with Altea in mind. He both hated and appreciated the new space between them; the depression was an overwhelming cloud, something impossible to put into words, but he could only compare it to the first few seconds of absolute grief and shock at the news of a lost love one, but continuous . . . never-ending.

It was as if Shiro judged him with his next few words, even when Keith knew he meant well, and so it was that reality and fiction blurred together . . . interpretation became ‘fact’ . . . every time anyone laughed, it was at his expense. Any time anyone smiled at him, it was with pity and disbelief. Any time anyone rolled their eyes, it was with contempt of him. Shiro spoke with a low and raspy voice, as he struggled to get out the words:

“Is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

“You went into a rut, but you could still control yourself,” said Keith. “Ruts just increase arousal to ridiculous levels; you’re horny, you’re hot, you have a lot of testosterone, and you want to mate, but . . . unless you _are_ mated, you can control yourself. I guess . . . I guess I just need to know why you ignored all basic self-control. You – You fucked me, Shiro. You fucked me and I . . . I wanted it . . . at least in the moment, but I didn’t . . . not really . . .”

“Keith, we’ve been doing this every night since then.” Shiro paled and looked to Keith with wide eyes. “Did you not want this? You can trust me. I _thought_ you could trust me! You need to tell me if you don’t want this, because we can stop. We can stop, Keith.”

“I – I don’t _know_ , alright! I don’t know! The heat messed with my head; I just wanted a relief, and I just wanted to be close to you, and I couldn’t lose you again, but . . . I was also scared and confused and I always wanted to wait. You were good; you know I hate skin-to-skin contact, so you kept your clothes on and just slid it out through your boxers, and –”

“And since then? Are you telling me that I was raping you?”

Keith blanched. The wind howled from outside, while – somewhere downstairs – a phone rang and cut through onto answer-machine, and Shiro still stank of sweat from an exhausting few days spent in the hospital. He was overwhelmed. There was too much stimulus. He couldn’t focus upon the question when his wrist hurt, when there was a draught from the non-existent door, when someone laughed from a neighbour’s garden . . . too many sounds, sights, and sensations . . . too much all at once. He grasped at his hair.

“I don’t know,” admitted Keith.

He looked about his room; an entire shelf was lined with trophies and certificates from the Garrison, where a life was thrown away within the space of one ‘tantrum’, and he longed for that life to be returned. Shiro’s door could be seen through the doorway. He remembered knocking upon that door as a child when the nightmares came, but now the memories were of being dragged inside and fucked on a mattress too firm with pillows too soft.

“We have to stop this,” said Shiro.

“What? No. No!” Keith blinked away tears. “You don’t get it, do you? This is all we have. You – You – You _saved the universe_! You’re not . . . you’re not ‘my’ Shiro any more, instead you’re the saviour of the universe and I have to share you with everyone, but this . . . this is something just between us. I can show you how much I care. I can believe you won’t leave me again, because you’re – you’re there . . . I don’t want to lose you, but –”

“Look, we don’t have to do this. I – I know it’s taboo, but I really do love you, Keith. It’s not been easy on me either, but . . . I thought this was what you wanted. I thought we were making love, not just . . . fucking or having sex. I – I can’t hurt you, Keith, so if –”

“No. No! You’re not hurting me, it’s just -!” Keith swallowed hard. “I don’t know, okay? On the one hand, I hate you and you’re this monster that I don’t recognise . . . you’re the man that randomly squeezes my ass in the kitchen, or gives me back massages in the bath, or screws me into the mattress at night . . . I’m too scared to say ‘no’ and I can’t control when or where it happens, and I don’t have a ‘safe space’, and I – I can’t get away from it, but then there’s other times. There’s times I want it, so I – I don’t know.

“I sometimes think it’s because I’m too scared to say _how_ I want it, because I do love when we cuddle up to watch old movies, then go back to your room to make love, and I love how it feels when you take the time to explore my body, and I even don’t mind the skin-to-skin contact then, and you even ask for permission and make sure you don’t cross boundaries, and it’s _so good_ that I could scream. I like it, but . . . I’m not _supposed_ to like it.

“I’m underage and I’m your brother. I’m _supposed_ to fucking hate it, which I sometimes do, but ‘sometimes’ isn’t ‘always’, and how can you be a ‘monster’ if you love me and nurture me and always stop when I say ‘no’ on those rare times? If I have a headache, you get me medicine and get me a cold compress, but you don’t force yourself on me! Is – Is it rape? I – I can’t legally consent, but we played doctor as kids and people say that’s normal, right? It’s like my head’s going at a thousand miles per hour and I don’t know what’s right or wrong!”

“You didn’t tell me any of this, Keith,” whispered Shiro.

“How could I?” Keith laughed. “If I want it and consented, doesn’t that mean something’s wrong with me and I’m fucked up in some way? If I didn’t want it and didn’t consent, that means the man I love is a rapist and . . . how can I love my rapist? That’s fucked up, too. It’s – It’s like there’s something wrong with me. I can’t process any of it and I feel overwhelmed, and I just wanted the confusion and pain and anger to _stop_. I just wanted it to stop.”

Keith collapsed back upon the bed. He blinked away tears, unwilling to place a further burden upon Shiro, but there was no one else to confide about his situation. A professional therapist would have to report the situation, while Pidge would tell Matt or Lance would tell Coran, and a part of him was still curious what it was like to be in a real relationship. He was a loner by default, but he still longed to be open about his love for Shiro, still curious about what it would be like to have a prolonged hug or hold hands or kiss in public.

The ceiling was painted with a mural of the sky, complete with constellations and planets, and sometimes – when he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘no’ – he would memorise their positions in hopes of making time pass quicker than it would. The stars provided some small comfort while Shiro prepared him, always gentle and with great kindness, while his mind would scream at him how no other adult would ever treat a teenager like that. Shiro asked:

“What do you need me to do now?”

They sat in silence for a long while. Keith wondered whether it was normal to take comfort from one’s abuser, or how the same person could force themselves on him one moment and comfort him with kind words the next, and it was difficult to reconcile how a man could be so kind and so cruel all at once. The tears ran down the sides of his face, as his eyes stung from a combination of tears and sweat, and he threw his forearm over his head to block out the light from the window, too ashamed to show his face. It was too much.

“I don’t know,” cried Keith. “I don’t know!”

“I’m going to hold you now, Keith, okay? Don’t worry,” said Shiro. “If you need me to let go, you just need to ask me to let go or pull away. I know how claustrophobic you get, so you don’t need to worry I won’t respect your boundaries. You’re sad and you’re scared, and those emotions are totally fine, but they’re not sustainable long-term. We’ll work out what you feel over time and we’ll find a lifestyle that suits you. You’ll get better, I promise.”

“I just wish I knew how I felt and what I wanted. I know I want _you_ , but you’re my brother and you’ve always been my brother, and it never went more than that, but then . . . it did, but what does that mean? I want to hate you, but I don’t hate you. The more I think of you as a ‘monster’, the more I hate myself, and I don’t want to hate myself. I’m just –”

“Confused? I know. It’s okay. We’ll get through this together.”

“Will you hold me now? Please?”

Shiro forced a smile, as he lay down beside Keith. They allowed their legs to dangle over the side of the single bed, while Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist and rolled him on top of him, so that their chests were pressed together and Keith’s head was buried into the crook of his neck. They held that pose for a long few minutes. The feeling of Shiro’s hands upon his back, as well as warm breath upon his neck, provided a small comfort, although he was forced to fidget to avoid feeling his pulse upon his lips. Keith said through a sob:

“I love you, Shiro, but I hate you.”

There was a staggered breath from Shiro, as he swallowed hard, and a small bead of moisture fell upon Keith’s cheek. A tear. He listened as Shiro cried, while those callused hands rubbed loose patterns on his back through his black t-shirt, but the sounds only added to his guilt and shame, as he realised the pain he brought his brother. Keith flushed red, as he fought the urge to place a chaste kiss to that pale cheek. Shiro finally broke the silence:

“I know, Keith. I know.”

 

 


End file.
